Sisters from Other Misters
Some women pray for their girls to marry good husbands. I pray that [my daughters] will find girlfriends half as loyal and true as the Ya-Yas.
—Rebecca Wells
The day I walked onto the campus of American University in 1968, I found sisters I never knew I had: Mary Braxton from Plainfield, New Jersey; Pam Higgins from Teaneck, New Jersey; Gail Black from Washington, DC; and Vicki Pinkston from Greensboro, North Carolina—all of us eighteen years old and bound and determined to make a difference in the world. A year later, Linda Allston from Darlington, South Carolina, joined our core group. What we didn’t know then was that whatever contributions we would make to the world in our adult lives would pale in comparison with the impact we would make in each other’s lives, for the rest of our lives.
Probably the first thing that pulled us together was cultural connections. We were young African American women on a predominantly white campus, at the height of social unrest over the Vietnam War and the murder of Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. We bonded soothing each other’s eyes when police tear-gassed our campus amphitheater, Woods-Brown, during a demonstration. “Remember Woods-Brown! Remember Woods-Brown!” became our battle song for weeks afterward. We locked arms fighting perceived injustices, on campus and in the streets of Washington, DC. We tutored cafeteria and grounds workers so they could get their GEDs, the route to better-paying jobs, or even being able to take classes there. My girlfriends and I wrote articles together and took photos for the newspaper published by our black student organization OASATAU, the Organization of African and Afro-American Students at the American University. After the initial random pairing of roommates by the university, most of this core group and a growing number of other women elected to live together on the Black Cultural Floor of Letts Dorm. We truly became sisters, as Pam’s parents noted during their fortieth anniversary celebration, in which we all participated. “We never worried about Pammie being an only child,” remarked Dad Higgins, “because of the caliber of loyal friends she is blessed with… and for that we are eternally grateful.” They knew, like all our parents knew, that no matter what we would always have each other’s backs.
We were there for each other as study partners and cheerleaders during final exams. We were there to talk out every new romance, or to provide a shoulder for each inevitable breakup. We were in each other’s weddings, witnesses for each other’s divorces, anxious bystanders for the births of each other’s children—and then unofficial aunts. Our group expanded and contracted with other amazing women during the years but the core, no matter where we lived in the world, remained essential, connected, and intact.
Never was this more evident to me than the night my husband died.
Linda and her family lived a couple of blocks from us in Takoma Park, Maryland, so we were frequently back and forth between each other’s houses, doing activities together with our kids. Our husbands got along great because both of them worked in the news media—Wes was in local radio and television news while Linda’s husband, Bernard Shaw, was the senior anchor for CNN. So when the doctor confirmed that Wes had died and I regained my coherency, I made two phone calls from the hospital. First, to my parents, who fought back their own tears and said they would fly down first thing in the morning. The next one was to Linda. I left a message, and then Nikki and I went over to Wes’s parents to pick up Shani and little Wes. Within five minutes of our getting home, Linda and Bernie were there. Then Mary, who had heard the headline on the eleven o’clock news; Pam and her husband, Ty; then Gail and her husband, Bill. I was particularly surprised when I saw Gail and Bill; Gail had recently given birth to their daughter, Lauren, and I knew they hadn’t yet left her without one or the other being at home with her. But they were all there for us, and in the midst of my grief, seeing them provided a momentary stillness where I could sit in gratitude for my circle of friends. My pride.
Snatches of memory are all I have left from that night: looking up from a chair in the kitchen and seeing Mary picking up and washing the cast iron skillet I had dropped to the floor when I heard Wes gasping for air on the landing; Linda putting the kids to bed and then feeling a cool washcloth tenderly applied to my forehead as she was saying through her own tears, “It’s okay, we’re here”; hearing the almost constant ringing of the phone and Pam and Ty, fielding each and every one with the words, “We’ll give her the message.” At some point, I recall that Gail and Bill, both lawyers, huddled with everyone to discuss what each could do to help us get through the next few days. My only crystal-clear memory is Bernie offering to go to 7-Eleven to pick up milk and cereal for the kids’ breakfast the next morning, as well as bread, eggs, coffee, and then he said the word that brought the weight of the moment crashing down on me, “cigarettes.” Bernie and I both shared the habit so he made the offer with no bad intent. What he wasn’t aware of was the deal I tried to strike with God to give up smoking if He let Wes live. Still furious over God’s perceived abandonment, I took it out on Bernie. I looked at him and with glaring, angry eyes blurted out a loud and hostile “No.” As it was coming out of my mouth I wanted to shove it back in, but I couldn’t even muster the strength to do that or explain my moment of rage. Weeks later when I tried to apologize for my reaction, Bernie didn’t even remember the incident (or so he said).
For the next few days before the funeral, my family and pride of sisters had a constant presence. The college circle expanded to include Vicki Davis; Jackie Flowers, whose rendition at the funeral of our favorite song, “Endless Love,” brought tears to everyone’s eyes; and Helen Moody, who brought outfits for me to wear to the funeral and who made sure the kids’ clothes were ready and in order. And even my college guy friends came through those first days, like Gerald Lee, who brought cases of soda and water and who reminded me of the words I needed to hear at that moment, “Let Go and Let God.”
At the grave site, my virtual circle that began coalescing that first day on American University’s campus and their husbands formed an actual circle. With our arms stretched across each other’s shoulders, we lifted our heads to the sky to signal Wes’s ascension. As we moved our heads toward the center of the circle, Ty offered a prayer, wishing Wes safe speed and thanking God for Wes’s time on earth and the ties that will continue to bind and connect us.
The year 2018 marks our fiftieth anniversary as friends. As my core sisterly pride sat around, listening to the music of our youth and reminiscing on all we’ve done together and meant to each other over the years, I shared what I think is one of the best tributes acknowledging the power of our friendships. It came from my son, Wes, when he and Dawn were starting to get serious in their relationship. He came to me one day and confided that one of the reasons he thought she just might be “the one” was because she had a circle of girlfriends, “just like yours.” With that as a touchstone, I was sure that theirs would be a relationship built on solid ground.
LESSON FROM A LIONESS: Create a sacred sisterhood.
Psychologist and author Randy Kamen says that research has indicated time and time again that the strongest predictor for a fulfilled life is building healthy relationships with others. Among the most durable are relationships between women. The emotional connections, he says, are actually based on science, as revealed in a landmark study by Laura Klein and Shelly Taylor, which noted that “women are genetically hard-wired for friendship in large part due to the oxytocin released into their bloodstream, combined with the female reproductive hormones. When life becomes challenging, women seek out friendships with other women as a means of regulating stress levels. A common female stress response is to ‘tend and befriend.’ That is, when women become stressed, their inclination is to nurture those around them and reach out to others.”
But the same life transitions and stressors that signal us to seek out support may also be what interrupts the momentum or intimacy of our friendships. At first, I feared that as a widow, I’d be a third wheel among our sisterhood of
married women. I can truthfully say, however, that in all these years I have never been made to feel that way. Yes, true friendships in adulthood can be much harder to make and maintain than was the case when we were living together in dorm rooms, but time and concerted effort have proven there are ways we can remain connected. Inspired by clinical psychologist and author of The Friendship Fix: The Complete Guide to Choosing, Losing, and Keeping Up with Your Friends, Andrea Bonior, PhD, here are some suggestions for preserving our friendships.
DEVELOP MOMENTUM.
Staying connected is key to maintaining lifelong friendships. Our group, like many in this modern age, has lived all over the country and some in foreign countries since we graduated. But no matter where we are, we’ve tried to connect at least once a year in person and numerous times by phone or Skype during the year. We’ve come together for special concerts or annual fashion shows in DC or even for a week at a spa resort in California. We have always believed, as Dr. Bonior says, that if you want to stay close, you had to stop letting schedules contribute to the deterioration of your relationships. Sometimes someone will send out a quick text to someone in the group and say, “Pick a time so we can do a catch-up phone date!” Sometimes it is just our core group; other times it may be another group of amazing women from work. But if relationships are important, then don’t let getting disconnected be an option. Once a day is agreed upon, get together for dinner, then go around the circle and share what each person has been up to for the past six months. If schedules allow, set regular get-togethers—the second Sunday of every month for brunch, for instance, or every Wednesday afternoon for a phone chat during your commutes—or let it work spontaneously. What’s important is that the friendships remain a priority in your lives. Then the magic of seamless connections will happen, as it has for our core pride for the past fifty years.
END POISONOUS FRIENDSHIPS.
Sometimes we hang on to a friendship out of habit or because we feel obliged to, even though we know it just doesn’t feel right. Some common scenarios are: When you have to see or talk to that person, is there a sense of dread because you know the conversation will be dominated by constant chatter about things that no longer or maybe have never interested you? Does this friend feel that her opinion is the only one that matters, and is she disrespectful of anyone else’s point of view? Do your other friends bow out of getting together if they know that this person will be coming? If any or all of these things ring true, then you have a toxic friendship and should end it. It doesn’t have to be a confrontational breakup. Not returning calls or being too busy to get together sometimes is enough to get the message across. But if you do elect to have a conversation, then explain that the two of you are just in two different places now, and rather than continuing to be frustrated with your changing priorities and interests, it’s better to end the friendship. Dr. Bonior says, “The inertia of unhealthy friendships can be strong: Guilt, fear, and familiarity can keep us in them much longer than is good for us. But if you can bring yourself to make some real changes, you’ll have even more room for healthier relationships.”
REMEMBER THE LITTLE THINGS.
I love roaming around the card store and picking up “just because” cards. I’ll send one to a girlfriend just because its picture reminded me of her, or the words inside almost exactly mirror a conversation I had with her at some time. Expressions like this—“Just because I’m thinking of you”—can mean so much. And who knows, maybe that person really needed that little boost at the moment your card arrived! Dr. Bonior warns, “We often get so bogged down with perfection that we sabotage ourselves, like the person so focused on ‘owing’ their friend a nice, long email response that they put it off and fail to respond at all. But done is better than perfect.”
AVOID TECHNOLOGY TRAPS.
Most of my girlfriends have kids or aging parents, so our standing rule has always been that when we get together we will only answer the phone if our kids or parents call. Smartphones, social networking, instant messaging: All those things are great when you are not face-to-face with your friends. For the friend who is tethered to her smartphone, Dr. Bonior has a cute suggestion. “The next time you’re lucky enough to be sitting across from a friend over coffee, pile your phones up in the middle of the table, and the first one to reach for theirs pays the tab.”
Moving Beyond the Heartbreak: The Mary Ann Boyd Story
Great mothers build bridges instead of walls.
—Reed Markham
The finicky sun played hide-and-seek through the oversize picture window. It provided the perfect frame for the kidney-shaped front-yard swimming pool, protected from prying eyes by gray wooden privacy gates. Inside, Mary Ann Boyd and I sat near the baby grand piano, a focal point in this midcentury modern corner house in California’s prestigious Orange County.
Looking at her surroundings, it’s hard to imagine her growing up in extreme poverty as one of eight children in Milwaukee, Wisconsin. Her father left the family for another woman when her mother was pregnant with twins and Mary was only two. Five of her siblings were under the age of eight, and all were eventually raised by their single mom, Dorothy Elizabeth. A high school dropout, Dorothy was unable to find a family-supporting job that paid more than babysitters’ costs, so their primary source of income when Mary was growing up was welfare.
We were extremely poor and reliant on social services and the church, because we were raised Catholic. You know, getting free turkeys every Thanksgiving, and eating that turkey carcass for what seemed like a month, down to boiling the carcass in a pot to get any remnant of meat on the underside. My mother thought public housing would be a move up for my family. She was very excited to be one of the first families to move into the “new” projects located on 6th Street in Milwaukee.
Mary recalls that even though the family was poor financially, they were rich in so many other ways. Theirs was a house full of love, with her mother instilling her commitment to learning in all her children. By three years old, Mary could read, and as she grew older she got a library card and transported herself out of her neighborhood into other destinations through the books she read. Always keeping the words of her mother in mind as motivation—“You can do anything in life if you utilize your brain”—Mary became obsessed with education and determined to work her way out of poverty.
As I got older I became keenly aware of the political climate of the haves and the have-nots. I worked at the neighborhood Malcolm X Center where I helped serve dinner to neighborhood children. The money I earned helped pay my tuition at the private high school I attended in the suburbs and helped my mom pay for extra clothes. It became really important to me to be as good as I could be, as a child. I wanted to please her, I wanted her to be proud of me. I didn’t want to be a problem.
Mary sailed through high school academically and without the typical mother-daughter conflicts that almost seem like rites of passage in most families. She was easily accepted into the University of Wisconsin–Madison, and that’s where, in her freshman year, she fell in love.
Robert and I fell in love really quickly. We met when I was eighteen, and soon after we decided to live together. I just knew we would be together forever, so for about a year I tried to get pregnant. Yes, it was intentional. I wanted to give Robert what I considered to be the greatest gift of love, his child.
Unfortunately, that was a gift he wasn’t ready for. About a month after her pregnancy was confirmed, Robert told Mary he was too young to be in a relationship and moved out. He didn’t totally abandon her, but he began to date other people, which broke Mary’s heart.
A difficult pregnancy coupled with long cold Wisconsin winters and the pressures of her academic life forced Mary to consider a different option.
I was on my way up Bascom Hill to drop out of school and go on public assistance when a little voice inside me said, “Mary, turn your tail around. Don’t you dare do it. You’ve got this child inside of you, and who else does he or she have? Who is goi
ng to take care of the two of you?” So I turned around and I went to the library and I sucked it up. I pulled off 4.0 that semester. I was doing it, not for me, but for this baby. That was my inspiration then and has been ever since.
For Mary, connecting with her intuition helped her focus on what was most important to her. Opening her heart and listening to her mother’s voice in her ear about the importance of education strengthened her resolve about what she needed to do to create a blessed life. As her pregnancy became more and more difficult, Mary’s mother came up from Florida and moved in. She was there three months before the baby was born and then stayed about four months after Jamaar Maurice Boyd was born that September.
And when it was time for her to go back home, I cried like a baby but I knew she had to go. She left me with the confidence I needed to not only raise my son alone if I had to, but to finish my education too.
And that’s exactly what Mary did, and then some. She finished her undergraduate studies, then worked for a year to raise her son and save enough money to go back to school. With the help of University of Wisconsin scholarships and fellowships, she not only finished law school but went on to earn an MBA.
Motherhood had intensified her desire to settle down, but fatherhood seemed to have the opposite effect on Robert. He never shied away from his responsibilities as a father. He helped support them when he could and occasionally dated Mary, but marriage was a bridge he just could not seem to cross.
The Power of Presence Page 7